


leave it up to me (to burden you again)

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-20
Updated: 2007-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-06 10:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8746045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: I suck at summaries. It's set during Playthings where Sam asks Dean for the impossible.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

_Take back everything you ever said._

_You never meant a word of it. You never did._

_\- The Academy Is: "Slow Down"_

 

Dean stared down at his clearly insane younger brother. This wasn’t like Sam. He didn’t get drunk and then push these kinds of things on Dean. He saved that for strictly sober moments so he could fully enjoy his brother’s torment. Or at least that was Dean’s theory. But whatever the truth was, Sam didn’t do this. It wasn’t like him.

 

Dean knew Sam was hurting with everything that had happened. He was scared and feeling guilty, though that wasn’t unusual for Sam Winchester. He’d been born with the guilt gene. But none of this was Sam’s fault, it never had been. These things just happened to him, to them. It was a family curse.

 

It had nothing to do with Sam and how good he was, or wasn’t, in this case. Because it was went without saying that Sam was probably the nicest guy anyone could ever meet. His brother could practically be a saint. But with all the guilt in the way it was hard to see anything other than pain. Even rationality wasn’t going to talk him out of this one.

 

But it wasn’t going to happen no matter how bad things got. Dean wouldn’t, even if he could. Sam was just going to have to understand that. Things weren’t like they should be between them, not that anything in their lives was as it should be, but Sam had to know how much it hurt to even hear him say something like that.

 

“Don’t ask me that,” Dean warned.

 

He knew that his brother was drunk, but this wasn’t right. He couldn’t use that as an excuse to rip his heart out. Dean wouldn’t let him have his way for once in his life. This was too much for him to take, to promise. And he wouldn’t lie to Sam. Not if he didn’t have to.

 

“Dean,” he pleaded. “If things-“

 

“You can’t ask me to do that Sam!” he yelled, shoving free of Sam’s pleading grip. “You fucking can’t!”

 

“Dean, you can do this. You’ve always been better at this then me!”

 

“Do you remember when dad was possessed by the demon, and he told you to kill him? You couldn’t do that, I _couldn’t_ do that. How the hell am I supposed to kill _you_ Sammy? I can’t…I could never do that. Not to you.”

 

“You have to! It’ll save so many-“

 

“I don’t care!” he snapped. “I don’t fucking care. I’m not sacrificing you. Anything else, but not that.” How many times was he going to have to say it before Sam understood? There were just some things he couldn’t promise.

 

Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His brother had always been the strong one. Especially when it came to doing things that needed to be done, no matter what. When had Dean ever not been able to do what had to be done? Even if it meant killing him.

 

He also knew that he could never do this for his brother if the situation was reversed. Couldn’t kill the one person who’d always made sure he knew he was loved no matter how hard for him it was, who made sure he knew how to survive without always jumping down his throat, and the one damn person who had always taken care of him without complaint.

 

But this was different. This was Sam asking Dean to do something for him, something important. And he never said no to Sam.

 

“You can’t ask me that, Sam,” he sighed.

 

Dean looked so defeated right then. More than Sam had ever seen him look before. And it scared him, but things had to be settled. They had to have a plan in case things worked out the way the demon thought. Sam couldn’t be the cause of so much pain, especially not when it risked Dean’s life. Couldn’t Dean understand this was as much for him as it was for Sam?

 

“You’d rather I go all dark side and kill you and who knows how many innocent people just so you don’t have to kill me?” Sam tried to reason with him.

 

“Yeah, I would.”

 

“What the hell are you saying Dean?”

 

“I’m saying that you’re my _brother_ , Sam. That I love you so much it fucking hurts,” he yelled, slamming his fist against his chest. “Every time you cry, or get hurt Sam, every disappointment, every time you look at me like you are right now, like you can’t believe I’m your brother, fucking _kills_ me.” Dean straightened, shaking his head and taking a deep breath. “Maybe I’m not as strong as dad, maybe I’m not the man he was, but I can’t do it and that’s all there is to it Sam. I won’t fucking kill you no matter how bad things get. So stop asking, all right?”

 

“No, it’s not all right,” Sam gaped. Since when had his brother had such strong feelings about him? He knew his brother loved him and he knew that his leaving or his dying would be hell on him, but this was the kind of pain he expected with dad’s death. Not his.

 

He’d seriously underestimated his brother’s feelings for him and he couldn’t believe how big of an idiot he was to not realize it sooner.

 

Dean had been brother, father, mother, best friend, everything to him their whole lives. Of course he was going to feel something for Sam, it was impossible for him not to. But that didn’t mean all of his pain would be because of Sam’s death, he rationalized. Because when Sam died that was it. Dean had no one left and maybe that was what really was tearing him up.

 

“I get that if you have to kill me you’re going to be alone, but you’ve never been scared of anything in your life. Not even of being alone.”

 

xXx

 

Dean snorted. He’d just been more honest with his younger brother then he’d ever been in his life, with anyone, about his feelings and he took it as fear of being alone. For a college boy Sammy could be such an idiot sometimes. It would figure he wouldn’t take Dean seriously. That he would think it was some kind of macho show to cover up his real feelings.

 

Then again how macho was it to admit he loved his brother so much it made his heart ache?

 

“You think that if you want Sam,” he said, rubbing at the phantom pain in his chest. “But whatever the reasoning, I can’t do it. Not that it’s even going to come to that,” he added. “I know you Sam. You’re too good for that. You’re the last person to ever go dark side.”

 

“What about the time I-“

 

“Forget it,” Dean growled. He didn’t want to hear anymore. This was over as far as he was concerned. He wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to Sam. He wasn’t going to go all dark side. And Dean was _never_ going to kill him. “Go to sleep, Sam.”

 

“Dean-“

 

“Man, I’m not going to tell you again. I’ll leave your ass here if you don’t just go to sleep. Lock you in that room with the freaking dolls,” he muttered.

 

xXx

 

Sam shook his head and stared at his older brother. This wasn’t over. It couldn’t be. He had to promise him that he would do whatever it took. Sam couldn’t be responsible for that kind of damage. All the things he’d fought against, the life he’d given up for so many years, just to be used against his brother. He couldn’t do that anymore then Dean could kill him.

 

He couldn’t cause his brother more pain than he already had. Their lives were fucked, and there was no getting around that. Dad was dead, they had no idea where the demon was, there was a war coming that Sam could potentially be a major part of.

 

On the wrong side, no less.

 

There was no way he could fix things. No way he could fix his brother, or the relationship that they had now. Not when so many things seemed to keep coming at them. It was all he could do to just keep up with the hunts.

 

But he did it because he knew Dean needed them. And because, honestly, he was scared to stop. To just _be_ with Dean.

 

Dean didn’t always censor himself when he was angry, and Sam was afraid of the things he knew Dean kept to himself. Because eventually, he’d know. Eventually Dean would tell him how he fucked him over, how he’d fucked up their family. He’d finally see what Dean saw.

 

And he didn’t want that. Couldn’t deal with that.

 

He was sick of hurting Dean.

 

Sam needed this promise from him more than he’d needed anything in his life. Dean wasn’t going to give it to him, for once in his life.

 

So where did that leave them?

 

xXx

 

Dean sat down on the bed across from Sam’s, glaring at him. He wasn’t kidding, if Sam didn’t go to sleep his ass was going to be locked up in the doll room and Dean was out of there.

 

Well, for a little while anyway. There was no way he could leave his brother again. He had to watch over him, take care of him. He wasn’t going to fail him on this.

 

“Sammy,” he sighed. “You’re drunk, just go to sleep. Things will be different in the morning. They always are.”

 

“Promise me,” he pleaded. “I can’t keep doing this. All I do is hurt you. Please, just promise me.”

 

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about and neither do you Sam. Go to sleep,” he ordered, standing back up.

 

Sam looked up at him through tear filled eyes and Dean felt himself crumbling. But he wasn’t going to give in this time. Of all things to give in on, this wasn’t going to be one of them. He’d take Sam’s hate so long as it meant he was alive.

 

He took Sam’s arms gently in his hands again and guided him back onto the bed. He needed to sleep this off. Everything would be different in the morning, he was sure. And if he was really lucky Sam wouldn’t remember anything about tonight. Just the stupidity and guilt that had led him to a pounding headache.

 

“Promise me,” he repeated, refusing to give up.

 

Dean bit back a string of curses and tightened his grip on Sam. “I promise that as long as I’m around-”

 

“That’s not what I mean,” he protested.

 

“Yeah, I know what you meant Sam. And the answer has been and always will be no. So just please, get some sleep.”

 

“You don’t understand-”

 

“No, I don’t think _you_ understand. How can you expect me to _kill_ my _younger brother_?”

 

“It won’t be me anymore Dean!” he argued, those puppy dog eyes back in full force.

 

Sam looked so desperate it froze him up. He wasn’t letting this drop and he was becoming more hysterical by the second. The tears filling his eyes now spilling down his cheeks and over a twisted, pouting mouth.

 

“Please,” he begged, tugging at Dean’s shirt. “Please, promise me.”

 

How could he promise Sam that? How could he promise to kill his _family_ , his _baby brother_? He was everything to him. He’d meant everything he had said tonight to Sam. And he couldn’t do it, even if he wanted to for Sam.

 

But he could promise Sam anyway. If it would get him to go to sleep, to forget everything, he could do that. Because when it came down to it Sam wasn’t going to become _anything_. Dean was going to take care of this. That’s what he could promise Sam.

 

Truthfully, anyway.

 

Now he could promise him whatever he wanted as long as it got him to stop with the guilt tripping, the sad faces, and the pleading. It was too much to stand. Too much to say no to.

 

“I promise,” he lied.

 

Sam’s face changed instantly. Relief and gratefulness, flooding his once broken features. He stroked a hand down the side of Dean’s neck.

 

“Thank you,” he murmured.

 

Dean’s stomach twisted with desire, the soft touch of his brother’s hand sending shivers through him. He couldn’t believe he’d just promised that to him. Even if it was just to get him to lay off for the night. Now to have Sam thanking him, touching him like that…it made him feel even dirtier.

 

“That’s enough. Go to sleep,” he said, jerking back.

 

He didn’t deserve thanks for something like that. Sam should hate him for it. And he shouldn’t feel this physical pull towards Sam either. Especially not when things were so serious. He watched Sam lay back on the bed and roll over, burying his face into the bed.

 

Sam’s shirt rode up slightly, the only part of him visible now. But it was enough for Dean to imagine what it would be like to taste Sam’s skin, to feel his- what the fuck was wrong with him? Since when did he think of Sam like that?

 

He was his _brother_. God, how the hell had things shifted so fast? A few minutes ago he’d been telling his brother he loved him and couldn’t hurt him. Now he was imaging terrible things. Not nearly as terrible as killing him, but it was a betrayal all the same.

 

If Sam wasn’t already drunk, Dean might have given it some serious consideration.


End file.
